


Many Hands Make Light Work

by oratorio



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, F/M/M/M/M/M, Het, Oral Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair has a hankering for his lover F!Tabris to, let's say, be with other men. They go travelling with Zevran to find Kallian's old friend Anders, and find him in the Hanged Man with Varric and Fenris. Smut follows. You have been warned. Cross-game, obviously AU. Very NSFW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but I seem to have got carried away. Original kmeme prompt for this story was:
> 
> "It's always the nice boys that are freaks between the sheets. Once Alistair is deflowered, he realizes he has a desire to see his elven lover fucked by many men. In walk Fenris, Anders, Varric and Zevran to save the day."
> 
> Before you start, be aware that this story is around 10,000 words. About 2000 words go into scene setting. The rest is pure smut. Yep, 8000 words of smut, one big old scene. Just as well Black Lace books aren't written with scenes like that, or they'd be War and Peace with fucking.

“You have to help her!”  Alistair panted, breathless with fear and exhaustion.  In his arms lay his love, Kallian Tabris, limp and unconscious, crimson spreading across her leather tunic.

“I have to, do I?”

Kallian had been grievously wounded in the forest by a surprise wolf attack while she and Alistair had been taking a walk away from camp, trying to find a moment of privacy.  He had been running with her in his arms for what felt like miles.  Why, why had they strayed so far?  If only Wynne was here…

Then, like a mirage, a miracle – a man crashed through the underbrush ahead of them.  A man in mage robes.  _Apostate,_ the Templar within him whispered urgently, then _He can heal her!_

“Please, please, I can’t lose her.  I can’t!”  Alistair was sobbing openly now, drawing in huge breaths of air, choking and gasping.

The mage sighed, glanced over his shoulder.  “Lay her down here.  I will see what I can do.  But hurry!”

Alistair gently lowered Kallian to the forest floor and stepped back.  The man leaned over her, a soft expression on his face, and began to run his hands over Kallian’s body almost reverently.  A greenish glow twinkled in his fingertips and began to wash over his lover, bathing her in gentle celadon light.

“She will live,” the mage said, simply.

Alistair exhaled loudly and collapsed to his knees, head in his hands.  Tears continued to course down his face as he watched the mage continue his ministrations.  Kallian lay still, eyelids twitching, as the man lay the palms of his hands on – wait, when did he unlace her tunic?  Alistair’s eyes opened wider as he watched the mage skim his fingers over Kallian’s pale skin, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts.  He barely saw the injuries beneath knitting, healing, so focused was he on the contact between his lover’s body and the hands of this complete stranger.  He shifted uncomfortably, shamefully aware that he was turned on, confused by the feelings coursing through his body, the thoughts pushing into his brain.

Finally the mage got to his feet.  “She will remain asleep for some hours while she finishes healing, I have made sure of that.  But she will not be damaged by this.  You were lucky I was here.”

“I… I don’t know how to thank you.”  Alistair’s voice was thick, with relief or arousal he could not tell.

“May I make a suggestion?”  
  
“Suggest away!”

“There are Templars in the forest, on my tail.  They will be here in minutes.  Misdirect them when they arrive.  Then we will be even – her life for mine.”

“Templars!”  Alistair coughed, recovered quickly.  This man had saved the life of his lover, he would have done _anything_  he had asked.  “I will do as you ask.  I wish you all the best, mage…”

“Anders.”

“Anders.  I will always be in your debt.”

Anders inclined his head, and with a flash of a smile and a wink of one amber eye he turned away from the pair and was gone into the forest, stepping lightly over the brush.

 

 

* * *

 

_My darling Alistair_

_I miss you so much, wish you could have come on this mission with me.  I have such news for you!  Do you remember the mage who saved my life in the forest, so long ago?  He is here at the Keep!  Long story, but basically I conscripted him to save him from Templars and he’s gone through the joining and is now a Grey Warden.  He couldn’t believe it when he saw me – you’d have thought he had seen a ghost.  There’s been a few of those around, I can tell you._

_We met a talking Darkspawn today – worrying tidings I know, but I am determined to get to the bottom of this and find out what’s going on.  I’ll be off to the Blackmarsh on the morrow to track down a Warden who may have more news, if we can find him in one piece._

_Anyway, tell me what you have been up to.  I cannot wait until I see you again._

_Yours always_

_Kallian xxx_

 

* * *

 

_My darling Alistair_

_Just to let you know I am safe, I made it through the battles in Amaranthine and we have killed a particularly controlling Broodmother – she seems to have been to blame for much of the uprisings.  No Archdemon you will be relieved to hear, no doubt.  I’m not sure I could go through something like that again.  Besides which, there’d be no Morrigan this time, we’d have to find some other crazy witch for you.  Only this time you’d have to let me watch!_

_Sorry, sorry, just missing you so badly, want to be in your bed again.  Not long now my love._

_Anders and Nate both fought well, Anders saved my life again would you believe.  He’s such a good man, he’s trying to save the life of a **Fade** **spirit** at the moment, stupid though that sounds (long story).  I’m so glad he’s been here with me through it all, he is just wonderful.  And Oghren sends his regards, he is just the same as ever.  How are things with you, is Zevran still watching your back as he promised me he would?  Not that your back needs watching.  Except by me.  I will watch your back forever.  And the rest of you._

_See, there I go again.  Just you wait until you see what I have planned for my homecoming._

_Sweet dreams_

_Kallian xxx_

 

* * *

 

Alistair put down the letter and sighed loudly.

“A problem?” Zevran was perched on the edge of Alistair’s writing desk swinging his legs.

“No, no problem Zev.  It’s just… well, take a look.”

Zevran skimmed through the letter.

“Ah.  You are jealous, dear Alistair?”

“Yes… no… I don’t know.  It’s confusing!”

“What is to be confused about?  The Warden clearly adores you.  I would take your place in an instant, just to see what she has planned!”  The elf chuckled lasciviously.

“Zev!  No, it’s just… this man, Anders, ah I can’t explain…”

“Try me.”

“OK, this is embarrassing.  When Anders saved Kallian before, in the forest after the wolves jumped her, he… had to undo her armour to reach the wounds… so…”  he trailed away, lamely.

“So he saw her, what, naked?”  Zevran was grinning widely.

“Maker, you are so not the best person to be telling about this!  No, she wasn’t naked, but he was touching her skin in some… parts… and, well, I, well…”

“Aha!  You enjoyed watching!”

“Yes, Maker help me Zev, I felt… something, ah I don’t know, I imagined her being touched by him in different circumstances, pictured her enjoying it, you know, all the looks she gives me, with someone else… Maker curse me, I am a bad, bad man!”

Zevran threw back his head and laughed.  “Oh, Alistair, this is normal, yes?  Just a fantasy?  No harm done.  You know, you should hear some of the fantasies I have  played out in my time - there was once when…”  
  
“Not the time, Zevran.”

“My apologies.  So what are you going to do about this… situation?  Perhaps I could help.”  He smiled lewdly at the larger man, fully expecting an angry outburst in response.

“I don’t know, Zev.  Perhaps you could.”

Zevran nearly fell off the desk in astonishment.

“Maybe you could help me find this Anders, see if I can persuade him to join us for a while?”

“Not quite what I had in mind, dear Warden, but if you are sure… if you feel Kallian would want to, let’s say, play?”

“Ah, Maker, I need to speak to her.  Soon.”

“Good luck with that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kallian had been home for five days, five days and nights of bliss and rediscovery, before Alistair felt brave enough to broach the subject while lying in bed one morning.

“So, what did you think of Anders then?”

“You know I liked him.  A lot.  He sort of reminded me of you, only more confident, well, arrogant really I guess, but lovely with it.  I will miss him, he was a good friend.”

“A good friend?  That was all there was?”

“Of course, Alistair – you are jealous?  You know I love you, only you.”

“I know, love, and I you – but come on, don’t tell me you weren’t attracted to him, not even a little bit?”

Kallian blushed.

“See!  I knew it!”

“Nothing happened, Alistair, not for want of his trying I can tell you!  Yes, he is an attractive man, anyone can see that – but I am with _you_.  I might have enjoyed his company but nothing else - I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“What if you had my permission?”

“What?!”  Kallian stared at him, eyes wide in shock, lips parted and brows pulling together in a frown.

“I… just thought, you’ve not been with anyone other than me, I know that… and perhaps you would like to, after all, me and Morrigan… well I guess what I am trying to say is that if you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind, I might, well, might like it…”

“Like it?  Alistair, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you, you know that, right?  I love you so much and I want to be with you always, but that I sometimes wonder what you would look like with… someone else… and I, well, I…”

“That turns you on.”

He hung his head, and spoke in a small voice.  “Yes.”

“Then, yes.  I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  I love you too, and don’t want to share my life with anyone but you… but I think I would enjoy some new experiences.  With you beside me, of course.”

“Of course!”  Alistair smiled, tingles running through his flesh, hardening him instantly.  “Now, where were we?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve found him?”  Alistair had called the elf in to his quarters as soon as he had arrived, breathless and dusty from the road.

“Yes, Alistair.  He’s in Kirkwall.  Has a clinic there, healing people.”

“Then we will prepare to leave right away!”

“We?  Just you and Kallian, or are you going to be needing protection on the road?”

“Aren’t you tired of travelling?”

“Not at all!  Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Alistair snorted.  “Who said you’d be invited?”

“I have invited myself, _amico._ Oh, this is too exciting.  I will be waiting for you right here!”

Alistair shook his head.  The assassin was incorrigible.  “Let me go and tell Kallian.  We will be ready shortly.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The trio arrived in Kirkwall hot and exhausted from a long journey by land and sea.  They had a protracted argument with the guards at the gate, but after convincing them that Kallian was _the_ Champion of Ferelden, they were allowed in.

Alistair could sense the healer nearby, could feel the taint inside him calling to the mage’s blood.  Kallian obviously felt the same pull, as she grabbed Alistair by the hand and headed purposely off through the winding alleys and stairwells, Zevran hurrying to keep up.

They came to a halt outside a grubby looking inn, broken bottles and filth which looked suspiciously like dried vomit crusting the pavements outside.

“Ah, a fine looking establishment.”  Zevran did not hesitate, pushing open the door and disappearing inside.  Alistair and Kallian glanced at each other and shrugged before following him. 

The bar was scruffy, sawdust on the floor covering beer spillages and bloodstains, a distinct odour of sweat and stale ale in the air.  Several patrons lounged around looking them up and down while the bartender wiped mugs with a dirty cloth, showing no interest in serving his customers.

There was no sign of Anders, though both Kallian and Alistair could sense that he was nearby.  They wandered to the back of the inn, and found the mage in a suite of rooms upstairs, drinking foul looking ale and playing cards with a beardless dwarf and an interesting looking elf.

“Kallian Tabris!  Are you stalking me? Tell me it is so!”  Anders unfolded himself from his chair and hurried over to them, pulling the elf into a tight hug before his eyes fell on Alistair beside her.  “Oh, my apologies, ser, no offence meant!”

“None taken!”  Alistair smiled.  “It is good to see you again.  I understand you have been a good friend to my lady here.”

“I have done my best indeed.  Not that I didn’t try to be more than that, I confess, but the damned woman is too devoted to you, I’m afraid”  he grinned wickedly.

“Hmm, so I heard.” Alistair blushed, feeling foolish as he considered their reasons for being here.

“Anyway, pull up some chairs.  Do you play Diamondback?”

“Badly.”  
  
“My favourite type of opponent.  Deal them in, Varric!”

The dwarf pulled out his cards and dealt three extra hands, more ale was poured, and within an hour Alistair was cursing at being five sovereigns down.

“Andraste’s flaming sword, I’m nearly out of gold!”

Zevran smirked.  “We could always play for something… _other_ than money, amico?”

Anders coughed.  “Do you mean what I think you mean?”

Zevran just looked at him, salacious and lustful.  “I believe I do.”

There was a heavy silence before Kallian clapped her hands together and sang, tipsily, “I think that’s a _brilliant_ idea!”

All five men turned to look at her, cheeks glowing, green eyes sparkling, pale golden hair falling out of her ponytail and feathering around her face.  Maker, Alistair thought, she looks _ravishing_. 

Without uttering another word, Varric collected the cards from the table and shakily began to shuffle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Andraste’s arse!” Kallian giggled as she lost yet another hand.  Alistair frowned slightly – he thought she hadn’t been _this_ bad at the game before.  His eyes roved over her body as she sat clad in only her breastband and leggings, her hardened nipples clearly pushing against the cotton.  Surely she wouldn’t…

There was a collective gasp as the beautiful elf tore off her breastband with a smile and a flourish, her nipples springing free, her pert, rounded breasts falling with a bounce against her skin.

“Next hand!  Deal!”

Alistair shook his head disbelievingly.  She was _enjoying_ this.  For the love of the Maker, he was as hard as iron in his breeches and from the look on the faces of the other men around the table, so were they.  Zevran was staring openly, smiling.  Anders was licking his lips and looking nervous.  Varric, the dwarf, was desperately trying to subtly adjust his breeches and the elf, Fenris, had his eyes closed and appeared to be chanting in a strange language, under his breath.

Varric gulped.  “Um, are you sure you want to keep playing?  I mean, we are all… like this…” he gestured at his almost fully dressed state, “and you… well… you know.”

“I know!  I am so bad at this, aren’t I!  You boys will just have to catch up.”

Maker, she was _flirting._ Alistair groaned softly.  “Listen, Kallian, I know what we talked about but… this?  This is OK?”

“More than OK, my love,” she looked at him, suddenly sober, and leaned across to whisper in his ear.  “This is what I want, as long as you do.”

Alistair felt all his blood race to his cock, which twitched impatiently against his smalls, as hard as it had ever been.  Oh, Maker.  This was… unbelievable, but perfect.

He pressed a kiss to Kallian’s welcoming lips before she could pull back to continue the game… _her_ game.  Her mouth opened with a sigh and she met his tongue with her own, pulling him into a deep and ferocious kiss.  For a moment, he tuned out where he was, where they were, who they were with.  There was only Kallian, half naked and warm, pushing against him.  She was in his lap, his hands on her hips, running his fingers up her sides to tease her nipples.  He gasped, painfully aroused.  He heard a cough.

Kallian leaped from his lap and Alistair blushed as he looked over at the mage.

“Um, I don’t want to interrupt or anything, but…”  Anders was shivering in his seat, embarrassment and desire warring on his features.  Alistair opened his mouth to ask forgiveness when –

“Dear Anders.  That was unforgivably rude of me.  Allow me to apologise.”

Kallian strolled across the room to where the mage was sitting, seating herself in his lap and pulling his face to hers before claiming his mouth in a brutal kiss.  Anders squeaked in surprise, tensing his entire body, his eyes meeting Alistair’s over Kallian’s shoulder.  Alistair inclined his head and smiled broadly.  Anders’ eyes widened but he relaxed and began to vigorously kiss the elf back.  Kallian’s nimble rogue fingers quickly unbuckled his robes and slid them off his shoulders, her hands palming Anders’ skin, which pebbled with goosebumps under her touch.

She broke away from his mouth to trail kisses along his stubbled jaw, down his neck, biting down softly and drawing a moan from the mage’s throat.  Lips across his shoulders, down his chest, tongue laving one nipple then the other.

“Stand,”  she ordered him.  He rose to his feet with difficulty, knees shaking and weak with lust.  She deftly stripped him of his robes, unlacing his breeches and freeing his straining cock which sprang into her waiting hand.

Kallian looked Anders in the eye.  “Tell me you want this.”

“I… Maker, I want this.  But…”  he cast a panicked look around the room at the other men.  Anders started as he saw Alistair reclining in his chair, breeches open and frantically rubbing his shaft.  Fenris sat still as a statue, still muttering in Arcanum, eyes half closed, jaw twitching as he held himself together, taut as a bow string.  Varric and Zevran were both watching in silence, eyes wide, one grinning like a predatory wolf and the other red in the face and sweating.

“Now, Anders.  Now or never.”  
  
Anders gulped.  Was he dreaming?  No, impossible – were this the Fade there would be Justice, and there was no sense of the spirit, who disapproved of gambling.  And who would probably disapprove of having someone else’s half naked lover draped all over his chest.

 “Then I guess it’s… now.”

“Right answer!”  Kallian beamed, before continuing her path of kisses down the mage’s lightly freckled chest.  Anders gasped as her tongue ran across his belly, down the trail of golden hair to…

“Maker!” Anders cried out as Kallian took his cock between her moist lips, sucking lightly on the tip before pulling back slightly.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Kallian… oh.  I want…”  Anders was almost incoherent, any embarrassment or fear dissipated in the wake of his desire.  “I want you to suck me.  Please.  I want to come in your mouth, have you taste me, swallow me up.  I need it, Kallian.  _Now_.”

The elf smiled up at him before licking her lips and sliding her moist mouth around his cock once more, taking him deeper and running her tongue hard against the underside of his shaft, making him cry out wordlessly.  She glided her lips against him, back and forth, sucking and licking, tasting the salt of his sweat and the drops of come forming on the tip of his cock.  She took him all in, her throat constricting, feeling the wiry hair on his body tickle her nose.  She felt him tense, twitch within her mouth, and she instantly pulled back, freeing his cock with a sigh and smiling up at him devilishly.

“Not yet.”

Anders groaned aloud.  “ _Please_ , Kallian.  I need to come.”

She stood up slowly, tracing his body with her fingers, grabbing his hand with hers, stopping him as he reached for himself.  “I told you, not yet.”

Anders felt his hands curl into fists as she turned away from him, pert bottom still tightly encased in her breeches, returning to her lover and leaning over him for a kiss.  Such bliss, such agony.  His cock throbbed desperately, on the verge of exploding, and he wanted to wail at the feel of the cold, empty air which had replaced her warm, wet mouth and stroking tongue.

She turned away from Alistair, faced him again.  Oh Maker, thank you, she was coming back, he wouldn’t have to suffer this much longer…

Kallian walked past Anders, ignoring his outstretched hand reaching for her, and perched on the arm of the chair in which Varric sat, frantically trying not to look at her breasts.

“I have always wanted to know,” she began, conversationally, “what it would be like to have sex with a dwarf.  For example, do you,” she grinned wickedly, “have the same, hmm, dimensions as a human, or an elf, would?”

Varric spluttered, beet red and breathing hard.  For once in his life, he had no words.

“Do I have to find out for myself?”  She winked at him and began trailing her fingers down his open shirt, tangling in his chest hair.

She vaguely heard Zevran bark out a laugh behind her, the shifting of her lover in his seat, the heavy breathing of the mage she had left wanting, the whispers of Arcanum still streaming from the handsome elf struggling to keep control.  Mostly, she heard the thundering of blood in her own ears, the little voice in her head telling her   _I can’t believe you’re doing this_ , the sound of her thighs slicking wet against her leather breeches as she crouched before the dwarf and allowed her fingertips to play over the front of his tunic.

She leaned forward, mouth ghosting over his pelvis, breathing her words directly into his obvious erection.  “Are you going to show me?”

He shivered at the feel of her hot breath against his groin and felt his cock jump against the loose hide trousers he wore when relaxing in his rooms.  His fingers moved almost hypnotically, fumbling with the laces, his breath caught in his throat.  He had no idea what was happening here and suspected a desire demon, but was powerless to stop himself.  Yes.  Easier to believe a demon was making him do this.  In front of his friends.  This was one story he would find difficult to write about later.

At least without… embellishments.

He shuffled in his chair, wriggling out of his clothes and allowing the elf her first glimpse of a dwarven cock, short and thick, dark at the tip, surrounded by abundant auburn hair which covered the dwarf from his belly to his balls.  There was already a drop of precum on the end of his shaft and Kallian stretched out a finger to touch it, rub it around the head of his cock, causing him to buck in his chair and shudder forcefully.

Kallian pressed her lips to the inside of Varric’s thigh, curling her tongue through the coarse hair which adorned his skin.  He tasted of iron and cloves, and she lightly bit down on him, breathing in his masculine scent.  He wriggled beneath her, trying to push his hips, his cock, towards her mouth.

“Patience,” she murmured softly, blowing lightly on his impatient erection before switching her attention to his other leg, kissing and nibbling on the hot skin, pushing her tongue and lips into the meat of his thigh and sweeping her tongue lightly – _oh-so-lightly_ – along the soft parts where his thighs met his belly, his groin.

“Ahhhhh” the dwarf sighed, the first sound he had made since she had fallen to her knees in front of him.  She smiled into his body, encouraged.  Planted a kiss softly on the tip of his cock, earning another groan.  Her hands moved along his thighs, tracing patterns where her lips had been.  She cupped his balls in her palms, gently squeezing, feeling his arse tighten against the chair.

“You like that?”

Varric nodded furiously, writhing under her touch.

She leaned into his crotch, licking his shaft with a smooth, hard stroke from base to tip as her hands continued to massage his balls.  He whined, tensed.  Her fingers played over his perineum, exploring him, pressing into places she had never thought to touch before.

She pulled back, looked at the dwarf’s face, crumpled in a desire which looked like pain, paused briefly, considering.  He  shuddered as she sucked thoughtfully on one of her fingers before she moved over him again, taking him into her mouth as she pushed the moistened finger into his arse, feeling him stretch around her, curling against his prostate and rubbing softly inside him.  He shouted, bucked, cursed… and she slipped away from him, standing in one smooth movement, leaving him swearing and sweating in the chair, thrusting his shaft into the air, frenziedly searching for release.

Kallian giggled and pinioned Varric’s arms together, once more instructing him “No touching… not unless you want the game to be over!”

“Damned elf!”  Varric was fuming, scarlet with anger, desire and frustration, rivulets of sweat running down his face.

Kallian surveyed the room.  Alistair was still clutching his cock, kneading himself enthusiastically, eyes fixed on her as if she was the only thing keeping him alive.  Anders was crouched in a corner, naked and hard, hands in his hair, shaking and moaning.  Varric was glaring at her with heat in his eyes and clear liquid pooling on his cock.  Fenris had still not shifted from his seat, holding himself apart from the rest, silent now and motionless, eyes cast down to the table, the long-discarded pack of cards.

“Mm, Zevran, it appears I have made them angry,” she muttered to the assassin, who had materialised by her side.

He chuckled.  “It appears so, _amora_ , and just as the evening was getting fun.”

“Amora, is it?”

“It can be anything you would like it to be,” Zevran grinned.

“I would like _this_ , Zev,” she turned into his embrace, melding her body against his as he devoured her lips in a passionate kiss.

The assassin had longed for this since the day he had failed to murder Kallian.  Since the moment he had opened his eyes blearily, swimming from unconsciousness, and focused on the sea green eyes and sun-spun locks of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

It was just his luck, he thought, that she was already committed to her fellow Warden, an honest and straight fellow who, Zevran felt, would not tolerate his flirting.  He had settled for admiring the rogue from afar, watching her lithe form dance into battles clad in the tightest, butter-soft leather and brandishing the sharpest, most deadly daggers he had ever seen.  She was a whirlwind of danger, of speed and grace, and he had _wanted_ her oh so badly for longer than he cared to remember.

And now here she was, in his arms, not _his_ but his for the moment and he was going to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

He broke away from the kiss and leaned over to kiss her neck, hands sliding along her hips.  Breath left his body as she pushed him away hard.

“This is my game, remember?  My rules.”

Zevran smirked.  My, she was a surprise, this Kallian.  He had never seen her this intense, this passionate.  He liked it.

“Strip.”

One word, snapped from her lips, a command she expected to be obeyed without hesitation.  He did not disappoint her.  Expert fingers unsnapped buckles, undid straps and laces until he stood before her nude and proud, his engorged cock rearing away from his slim, muscled torso and straining in her direction.

“You like what you see, amora?”

She did not reply, stepping lightly over to him and sliding one warm hand down his chest, tracing his muscles, following the lines of his ink, not _vallaslin_ but designed to highlight his shape, his form.  She twisted a nipple in her fingers, hard, trying to pull a reaction from the assassin, who remained quiet and still, watching her carefully.

Kallian hissed, determined to provoke her friend into action.  She scraped her nails along his smooth, tanned chest, leaving pale lines bisecting his tattoos, digging her fingers into his hips, bruising him, feeling his bones under her hands.  Still, he did not move.  She pushed her mouth into his shoulder, biting, bringing crimson dots of blood rushing to the surface of his skin, marking him with her teeth.  She was a dervish, whirling her mouth over every inch of his torso, fingernails scratching, pinching, pressing her body hard against his, nipping and pulling at him.  He held himself taut, rigid against her attentions, determined not to let her have this easily.

She growled in his ear, nibbling the sensitive tip before whispering, “I have always wanted to do this to you.”

It was her words that undid him, made him fold himself against her, moaning softly with released yearning, giving himself over to her touch and showing her with his movements, his moans, just what she did to him.  He whined with need as she touched everywhere with her fingers, her lips, her eyes drinking him in and committing his body to her memory, as he was now, completely under her thrall.  She smiled, delighted at his submission.

“You want me.”

“ _Si, amora.”_   Zevran’s normally light tones were scratched and broken in his mouth, overcome with desperation, with need for her.

“I thought so.”  Her smile became wider and she stepped backwards, turning from him, her fingers removed from his body, leaving only burning spots of pain and pleasure in their wake.

“Kallian… Brasca!” Zevran lit up with frustration.  He had known she would taunt him, the way she had teased the others beyond endurance, but he had not expected the coolness with which she had walked away, the lack of any affection in her touch.  He felt like screaming, turned violently and threw a mug at the wall where it shattered in a foam of beer and clay.

The rogue’s shoulders were shaking as she buried her face in Alistair’s shoulder, whispering lightly in his ear.  Damn him, the Chantry boy was smiling – _smiling_ – as if he was enjoying every minute of his lover _torturing_ other men in front of him.

Alistair was looking now at the taciturn elf who had not said a word in the common tongue since Kallian’s clothes had started coming off.  He was still gazing at the scarred table top, purposely avoiding everyone’s eyes.  Zevran wondered why Fenris was still here when he was so clearly uncomfortable with what was going on.

Fenris shifted slightly as Kallian approached him, hair falling loose over her shoulders in waves, lips - puffy with kisses - pulled into a smile, cheeks flushed pink with desire.  He glanced up at her, wary, afraid.  He wouldn’t admit it to any of those present, but he had no memory of being with a woman and this was all new to him.  It was not quite how he had imagined his discovery of the pleasures to be had in another’s body.  He had nearly bolted several times during the evening, and had remained held in place only by his fascination with the elf’s beauty, her flashing eyes so like his own, her mouth rosy and full, skin pale and smooth, her breasts… Maker, no wonder men liked to talk about sex so much.

He had been both afraid of her attention and terrified of not receiving it, watching her torment the other men with her body and leaving them all hanging on the edge of fulfilment, so close as to be physically painful.  All the while he became increasingly aware of his own erection pressing against his tight cowhide leggings, the rough material chafing his sensitive skin.

She stood in front of him, a challenge in her oceanic eyes.  He tilted his chin, met her gaze directly, soundlessly.  Her lips quirked upwards.  She was intrigued by this elf, with his snow-white hair, bronzed skin and those burnished patterns which appeared branded into his body.   _How far do those marks go?_  He was handsome, and earlier had seemed clever and wry,  for all his apparent melancholy.  She would have loved to know his story, but not now.  Now, she had other things on her mind.

She crouched by his side, took his gauntleted hand in hers, whispered into his ear so that only he could hear her,  “I saved the best for last.  Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?”

He visibly trembled at her words, eyes closing and mouth tightening.  He felt her fingers push through his hair, run deftly along his cheekbone, slide their soft dry warmth across his lips.  It felt good and he leaned into her touch, craving more.  He released a breath in a shuddering gasp, not even aware he had been holding it in.  She was being so… surprisingly gentle.

_Interesting.  Starved of affection._

Kallian had swiftly realised that Fenris needed her touch, any touch, far more than he himself had expected. She sensed that she would have to be careful with him, not softer but less impulsive.  She hummed against his hair thoughtfully and licked his ear from lobe to tip in one light movement.  He closed his eyes and sighed.  She ran her fingers down his back, tugging at the straps on his armour, pulling them loose and lifting his chestpiece away from his body, hands under his tunic, feeling solid muscle tense under her caress.

She swung a leg over his, grinding her body down into his lap as she lifted his tunic over his head and feasted her eyes on his sculpted torso, etched lines running across his chest and stomach and down into his leggings.  The effect was similar to Zevran’s tattoos, highlighting the strength of his body, the beauty and power under the velvet softness of his skin, but these were no ordinary tattoos.  She touched one, lightly, feeling the mark hot and almost vibrating under her fingertip.

Fenris’ nostrils flared and his lips parted as he twitched at her touch, holding himself taut and rigid beneath her.  She pressed a kiss to his open mouth, moving her lips against his as he flinched, tried to pull backwards, then relaxed and softened into the contact, responding hesitantly but ardently.  She tasted bitter wine on his tongue, smelled cinnamon on his skin.  Her hands palmed his chest, his nipples, fingers tracing his silver brands, stroking a path to the top of his breeches.

Fenris arched his back and growled into her mouth as her hand pressed against his stiffened shaft under the rough material of his armour.  She rubbed against him experimentally, enjoying the glazed look in the elf’s olive eyes and the guttural sounds he made in the back of his throat.  Her fingers played over the laces of his tight leggings, tugging them loose so that the tip of his shaft burst through and pushed against her hand, already moist and throbbing with his hunger for her.

She slid from his lap and grabbed his hand, pulling off his gauntlet and pressing his fingers to her lips before coaxing him from his seat, a promise in her eyes.  She ran her hands down his sides, his hips, tucking her fingers under the waistband of his leggings and pushing them down as she sank to the ground before him, eager to feel him in her mouth, to taste him against her tongue.

Licking her lips, tasting all the men who had been before, she bent her head to Fenris’ groin and began to swirl her tongue slowly around the head of his shaft, pressing herself hard against him, her breath wet and hot on his skin.  He moaned softly, muttering again in Arcanum, a language she had no understanding of but there was no doubt from his broken tones what the words meant.  Her tongue caressed the heat of his cock, enjoying the tremors that she brought forth from the organ, matching the shivers that were passing through Fenris’ whole body.  The disciplined elf finally seemed to be losing control.

She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins under his skin - no markings here, she noted, apart from those he was born with.  His balls were heavy and hairless, in the way of all elves, and she took one gently into her mouth and rolled it over her tongue, causing Fenris to buck against her violently.

“Shhh.”  She clutched his hips, steadying him, and returned her attention to his cock, taking it into her mouth in one movement, sucking gently as she buried him within her throat, humming with pleasure at the sounds he was making above her.  Her lips were wet with saliva and the elf’s liquids as she slid over him again and again, murmuring against his skin, thrilling at his whimpers of pleasure above her.

She tuned in to his body as she had with the others, feeling him tense and convulse in her mouth.  Pulling away, standing up, ready to smile at the look of frustration in his eyes –

 **but** that was not what was in his eyes.  She took a step back at the sheer dark desire that burned on the elf’s face, and squealed in shock when he held her stare defiantly and began to _glow._   Silver-blue light rippled along the lines of his skin, shimmering in the dusk of the room.

“What-?”  Kallian never got to ask her question, as Fenris growled low in his throat and fell upon her, pushing her back against the wall and knocking the breath from her body as he pressed himself hard against her, the electricity of his markings darkening to a glimmer.

“Shall I show you what happens to _teases_ in Tevinter?” he snarled at her, the soft lines of his arousal suddenly sharp edges of fury.  She glanced around the room, wide eyed at her sudden loss of control, trying hard to rediscover some semblance of power over someone, something.

“Kallian?”  Alistair stood by her side, a question in his eyes.  She looked at him, the love reflected there, all the passion he had for her and for what she was doing here, and she smiled.  Nodded.  He cupped her cheek as Fenris glared at him, and retreated to his chair, trousers still unlaced and a tell-tale stickiness on his stomach.

She returned her gaze to Fenris, looked steadily into his eyes  “Yes.  Show me.”

He tore at her breeches, pulling them from her body, wet and sopping with her own juices,, his breath catching at her nakedness, her swollen sex pink and hot and glistening with her need.

He spun her round suddenly, arms around her waist, lifting her high as if she were a trophy, a prize.  She stared out at the others, all standing captivated by the sudden shift in mood in the room, all still obviously excruciatingly aroused.

Fenris chuckled, an unexpected sound.  “Who’s first?”


	2. Chapter 2

Nobody was surprised when it was Zevran who moved forward.

“Ah, mi amore, you poke a wolf with a stick and you will get bitten,” he sighed in her ear, one hand roving lazily across her breasts, down her stomach as she quivered against him, held firmly against Fenris’ chest, one dark arm wrapped around her waist, holding her still for the assassin to explore.

She wriggled and panted as Zevran ducked his head to her chest and languidly ran his tongue across her nipples, which hardened as the elf’s saliva dried in the chill of the room.

“What do you say, amora?”

“Please, Zev.”  Kallian was writhing in Fenris’ clutches, trying to push herself at the assassin, needing him to touch her now, to feel his mouth on her sticky skin.

“Mmm, nearly.  You need to be more specific, shall we say?”  Zevran smiled down at her, parting her thighs and moving his lean, taut body over hers, hissing as he felt his cock rub against her wetness.

“Zev… oh, Zev, fuck me.  _Please._ I want to feel you inside me! I want you filling me, stretching me…”  Kallian chanted, aching for his touch.

The assassin was momentarily disarmed by the passion in Kallian’s voice, the pure wanton need for him that she displayed, but was soon back in control, tracing a path down her belly with his tongue, starting and stopping, blowing lightly on her skin as he left trails of kisses across her exposed body.

She mewled urgently as he lifted and parted her legs and dipped his head down between her thighs, which she obligingly curled around his neck and rested on his shoulders loosely.  He muttered an Antivan curse under his breath as he took in the sight before him, this beautiful woman dripping with her longing to be filled, touched.  For him, for them all.  He shivered.  Even for him, this was overwhelming.

“ _Please,_ Zev,” she repeated, trying to stretch her body towards him, stopped only by the iron grip of the Tevinter elf, himself leaning into her and rubbing his own swollen cock against her backside.

Zevran ran a finger around Kallian’s drenched clitoris, drawing a gasp and a tautening of her stomach.  He smiled and continued his ministrations, light touches and gentle presses turning into more urgent strokes and finally he pushed his fingers into her, curving them against her walls as his mouth met her nub, his tongue encircling her and flicking against her most sensitive spot.

Just as she was beginning to wail his name he stood up, wiping his mouth.

“Any more of this… excellent… ale, good man?” he called out to the bartender, Corff, who had appeared in the doorway, thunderstruck.  Corff nodded, eyes wide, and scurried off quickly to fill the order.

 

Kallian moaned, disappointment and exasperation coursing through her.  _No less than I deserve_ , she thought, _but Maker I am going to kill that man._

Zevran grinned at her.  “I am not done with you yet, mi amore,” he whispered in her ear, then turned to the rest of their small group.

“You, dwarf.  Come here.”

Varric gulped and staggered to his feet, wobbling slightly as he made his way over to the trio of elves.

“And you, mage.  Do I assume you wish to join the fun?”

Anders was sitting on the floor, glassy-eyed with lust, a distant smile playing across his features.

“Anders,” Kallian blurted out.  “Anders, I need you.”

That got the mage’s attention, scrambling to his feet and hurrying to her side, stumbling over the robes he had earlier discarded to the floor.

 

Kallian closed her eyes at the sensation of a hard pair of hands holding her body up for inspection by three other pairs of hands, roaming across her bare skin.  She squirmed as tingles shot along her nerve endings and her now-neglected clitoris throbbed to be touched.  She felt a mouth on her breast, on _both_ her breasts, Maker, nipples being pulled and sucked into two pairs of lips, another mouth on her thighs, running a tongue slowly up and down her soft, damp skin, drawing close, closer… then moving away tantalisingly.  The elf behind her leaning into her neck, biting her skin lightly, breathing into her ear hotly, full of want and passion and broken phrases.

Then another, fifth mouth on her own, this one tasting familiar, feeling like home.  _Alistair,_ she thought.  _My love._   She opened her eyes to his hazel gaze, full of need and love and wanting.  _I love you_ she mouthed, soundlessly, under his warm lips.  She felt his mouth curve into a smile before he deepened the kiss, pouring passion and longing and _hunger_ into the pressure of his lips against hers.

Such was the power of the kiss that for a moment she forgot the feeling of men fondling her body, the presence of anyone else in the room.  Then he was gone, stepping back away from her, surrendering her to the touch of others.

She arched her back, crying out as she became overcome with the sensations which flowed through her, every inch of her skin felt as if it were on fire, virtually every part of her being stroked and caressed simultaneously.  She felt that everywhere was a delicious assault of fingers, lips, teeth, tongues.  She was opened fully, spread like a banquet and being feasted upon by those who would worship her.

Only one part of her body was spared, and that was her sex, hot and aching, saturated with her craving to be touched _just there._   She became aware that she was whining, whimpering, _pleading_ for someone to push her over the edge, to send her into the pulsing orgasm she wanted, Maker, so desperately _needed_.

Her voice, breathless, cracked and desperate, the same word over and over again.  “Please, please, _please…_ ”

The mage pushing himself against her thigh, breath ragged as he tugged at her nipple with his lips, his fingers, burning with longing for her.

The dwarf panting as he bit down on the softness of her waist, breathing in the scent of her damp skin, flavoured with musk and sweat, frantically rubbing himself to completion, spilling his seed across her breasts with a loud groan.

The assassin, one of her closest friends, standing magnificent beside her, pushing his length against her lips, silencing her demands for _more, want, please_ , her mouth opening to take him in.

The Tevinter elf, quivering as he held her aloft still, strong muscles flexing against her waist, hands damp with sweat on her belly, whispering incomprehensible words in her ear as his rigid cock pressed hard into the crease of her arse.

Her Alistair, hot eyed with lust, exhaling hard as he stroked himself to hardness yet again by her side, quaking rapturously as he watched the love of his life abandoning herself to the wild, clumsy, desperate embraces of four other men.

 

She moved her mouth greedily along the length of Zevran’s shaft, her tongue swirling dreamily as she sighed against the heat of his velveteen skin.  He thrust against her impatiently, finding her willing, tightening her lips around him as she struggled to take his insistent length.  They fell into a rhythm of sorts, his hips snapping and her lips drawing him in, fiery and wet.  She heard him cry her name, felt him spasm, arching his body against her mouth, and then he was coming hard, filling her throat with fluid.  She swallowed reflexively, lapping at his softening cock with a gentle tongue as he panted heavily above her, smiling beatifically, as _happy_ as she had ever seen him.

“We have tormented you enough, mi amore, I feel,”  Zevran ran a hand through her loose hair and nodded at the men surrounding her body.

“Oh _yes_ , Zevran, please!”  She thought she had never said please as much in her life as she had in the last hour.

She felt herself being carried, a chill in the air, a bed in the corner.  She was thrown roughly on to the blankets and immediately covered by a lean elven body, hard muscle against her breasts, deep green eyes gazing into her own.

 

No words were spoken as Fenris nestled himself between her thighs and pushed forward, thrusting hard into her scorchingly wet core, crying out in shock and ecstasy as he felt her walls grip him tightly, like nothing he had ever imagined.  He rode the waves of emotion coursing through him feverishly, driving deep and fast, over and over, feeling his cock pulse and throb, holding on to the last vestiges of control _just a few more strokes_ and _this can’t be over already_ before it all became too much, far too much, and he abandoned himself fully within her, exploding in an orgasm which shook his entire body to the bones.  He felt her thighs wrap around him, pulling him close as he softened inside her, her fingers running gently through his hair, and he collapsed against her chest, breath coming in short bursts which seemed almost like sobbing.  He closed his eyes, struggling to regain his composure as he felt his flaccid cock slip slowly out of her warmth, and he rolled to the side, trembling, exhausted.

Kallian leaned over the elf, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.  "Thank you," she whispered into his ear, before returning her attention to the other men surrounding her.

 

Zevran crawled on to the bed by her feet, moving up her body to plant a kiss on her forehead.  The assassin was hard again, the agonised and awkward passion in her joining with Fenris having acted as a powerful aphrodisiac to his senses.  He pushed her gently back on to the bedclothes, kissing her cheeks, her jaw, finally her lips.  She responded eagerly, rocking her hips beneath him, needing to find her release.  He moved agonisingly slowly down her body, nipping and kissing, running lips and tongue across her already heightened nerve endings and causing her to keen low in her throat, stretching out her arms for him impatiently.

He knelt back and grabbed her calves, lifting her hips from the bed and pulling her bodily towards him. Her legs wrapped around him, fitting naturally into the contours of his waist, his narrow hips.  She moaned huskily as he slid slowly into her, shuddering at the sight of his length disappearing into her magnificent body, the feel of her enveloping him leaving him delirious with pleasure.

"Ah, you are a dream, dear Kallian," he breathed, eyes shuttering as he concentrated on the sensations flowing through him.  He thrust steadily, shifting his hips fluidly and rhythmically, matching her writhing movements, more in control than the inexperienced Tevinter elf.  He ran his fingers over her breasts, her nipples, twisting them gently and making her arch her back against him, begging him for more.  He quickened his pace slightly, tilting her hips into his and pushing against her walls in just the right way.  He smiled as she tensed and grabbed at the sheets, and reached down to press a finger against her nub and...

Oh Maker, stars in her eyes, sizzling through her as her whole body stiffened, lifted off the bed in the throes of the most incredible orgasm of her life.  She screamed and wailed, ululating wildly as she came apart beneath the talented elf.

Zevran stilled while she thrashed around him, delighted at her reaction.  Nice to know he hadn't lost his touch.  He waited for her to quiet, twitching with aftershocks, then resumed gentle thrusting, smiling down at her.

Kallian sighed. "Oh, Zev. That was..."

"No need to say it, _amora."_   He had felt something, too.  Wanted to make this whole thing last. If not beyond today, if not beyond the next hour, then for as many minutes as he could spend with her, inside her, pretending.

Pretending not to notice as she stretched out one arm languorously and gripped Anders by the hand, pulling the mage down on to the bed, giggling devilishly even as he continued to move inside her.

Pretending not to notice her licking her lips lasciviously and turning her head to Anders' groin.

Pretending he couldn't see her mouth closing over the other man's swollen shaft, the mage kneeling over her, hands on her breasts, moaning.

Pretending she wasn't reaching for Varric with her other hand, wrapping it around the dwarf's cock and pumping lightly.

 _Brasca_ , he was bad at pretending.

With a savage grunt he slipped out of her and dragged her away from the protesting men, spinning her over on to her hands and knees before plunging back into her hard and fast, fingers digging into her hip bones.  She dipped her head to the blankets, biting her hand as Zevran hammered into her furiously from behind, deep and brutal, her body quivering with the force of the elf’s thrusts.

She felt Zevran stiffen as he began to spill inside her, finally slumping over her back, hands squeezing at her breasts painfully and whispering her name into her ear in a tone of voice she had never before heard from the assassin.

Then he was suddenly withdrawing, his lithe body uncurling from hers in one swift movement, leaving her empty again with a chill on her back from his drying sweat.  She rolled over and sat up, reaching for her friend, grabbing his hand and kissing the palm.

"Zev, you are wonderful. Your boasts were justified."

The elf smiled tightly and gave a bow of his head.  "As are you, my lovely rogue. Alistair -" he glanced at the blond man leaning against the wall, "is a lucky man."

"I am, aren't I!" laughed the ex-Templar, voice uncharacteristically thick with lust.

"Luckier every minute, my love," Kallian moved from the bed to stand in front of her man, taking in once more the beauty of his honey eyes, shy smile, strong jaw... that broad chest... She would never tire of looking at him this way.

 

She ran her fingers thoughtfully down his golden-skinned chest, enjoying the hardening of his nipples as she brushed over them.  Then she fell to her hands and knees in front of him, looking him in the eye as she took him in her mouth, swallowing his familiar thick cock in one move.

"Oh, Kalli, my love," he gasped, breathing hard as she slid her soft lips against him, cupping his balls the way he liked.

She enjoyed the taste of him, spicy and warm in her mouth, under her tongue.  Closing her eyes, smiling at his hardness - she couldn't recall if she'd ever seen him this turned on before, this close to losing control - well, perhaps their first time together, but the warrior had calmed since then, had become a gentle and thoughtful lover.  This - well, this was something else. For both of them.

As if to echo her thoughts, her eyes flew open as she felt a body lift her hips and push against her from behind.  She looked up at Alistair, who was smiling lustfully.

"Take her hard, Varric," he choked out, before she felt the unmistakeable hairy thighs of the dwarf against her smooth skin, and her folds being parted by his stubby erection, pressing insistently into her.

Her lips stuttered over the man in front of her as she drew a breath at the feeling of being filled once more, then she relaxed into the dwarf's driving thrusts, pounding rapidly into her tight heat.  She wriggled her hips, clenching hard around him, causing him to yell wordlessly.

Then Anders was there too, dropping to a crouch beside her, whimpering _Please_ and _need you,_ his yearning all too obvious.  Poor man, she thought, he's the reason we're here and he keeps losing my attentions.  She reached out to take him in her hand, balancing carefully on her other arm as Varric kept up his ferocious onslaught, sliding her palm over the mage's shaft, fascinating at the softness of the skin over the unbelievable hardness of his arousal.

She lost herself in the feeling of having one man buried inside the heat of her core, one in her mouth and another in her hand.  All three were focused intently upon her, she the centre of their universe for that moment in time.  Again and again she was filled, Alistair gently pushing between her soft lips as Varric frantically slammed against her wet centre, Anders jerking under her fingers.

Varric reached his climax first, gripping her so tightly she knew she would bruise as he emptied into her with a roar.  As he withdrew from her, sweating and shaking, she felt Anders shuffle back, out of her grasp.

The mage stood, pushing Varric roughly to one side, and lifted her bodily from her position on the floor, her mouth leaving Alistair with a muted whimper of complaint.

"My turn."  His normally warm, gentle eyes were blazing with unfamiliar fire.  She felt a tremor race through her body as Anders carried her back to the bed, throwing her down and reclining next to her.  He slipped his hands around her waist, lifting her above him as if she weighed nothing at all.  Maker, he was stronger than she thought he would be.  She shivered, feeling a frisson as his cock rubbed against her overused sex, still demanding _more_.

 

Anders pushed her thighs apart roughly and impaled her upon his shaft, grunting as she slid easily all the way down, her slit sodden with her own juices and the releases of her lovers.  She squeezed her thighs around him and began to shift back and forth, rolling her hips, clamping him tight within her.  The mage murmured her name, raising from the bed to meet her movements, hair wild across the pillows and eyes fixated on hers, searing with the need to take her, to feel her everywhere, to burn her, this sensual union, into his memory to revisit during all the lonely nights in his clinic.

His hands slid along her waist, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking her nipples as she rode him, back curving as she sought the right angle, breath faltering as _yes, there_ she found sweetness in the movement, inhaling sharply as she pressed herself against his length, grinding down hard.

Then Alistair was standing beside them, watching intently, the realisation of his fantasy from years ago coming true in front of him, seeing his love being taken to the realms of bliss on Anders’ cock, her head thrown back, eyes closed and mumbling inarticulately, lost in her own pleasure.  He stretched out a finger and experimentally rubbed Kallian’s clitoris as she writhed and moaned, feeling how she was stretched taut around the mage, brushing against their joined bodies in wonder, pulling a gasp from both the mage and his lover.

Anders had been close to the edge for what felt like hours and now he felt himself rushing towards his peak, panting harshly and pushing into her uncontrollably.  He stroked one hand along her belly, down to meet Alistair’s questing fingers, finding her nub and – _there_ – allowed a tiny spark of magic to leap from his fingertip, electrifying her as she howled and came hard, her walls pulsing tightly around him, tipping him into his own rapturous climax.

 

Alistair looked at the mage open-mouthed.  “Well, that’s not fair!” he pouted, comically.  Anders simply winked.  “Trick of the trade!  Has to be some benefit to spending your whole life being hunted.”

 

Kallian lay on her back on the bed, speechless with amazement at the night she had just shared with friends and strangers, sated and replete and fully satisfied.  She gazed around at her companions with a lazy grin.  Varric was clutching a bottle of ale as if his life depended on it and wiping his brow.  Fenris was asleep on the rug, his face peaceful in slumber, lips curved in a rare smile.  Anders relaxed on the bed, sticky with sweat and the fluids of their lovemaking.  Zevran was… Maker, that elf, he couldn’t _still_ be… she had thought it was the Grey Wardens who were meant to have the most stamina.  Talking of whom, Alistair was leaning over her saying something in her ear.

 

“Mmm, what?  Sorry, my love.”

He laughed.  “Not surprised you’re a bit dazed.  I said, how about we go and see if they have a private room for us here, we can spend the night before heading back home in the morning?”

“Sounds good.”

“And if you aren’t too… worn out… perhaps…?”  He raised an eyebrow.

She stroked his arm.  “I’m not too worn out for you, my love.”

 

They dressed slowly, not looking away from each other, smiling the whole time.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read all this - I award you all the Internets. Plus a clean pair of knickers.
> 
> As my other stories will bear out, I do write adult scenes sometimes but they are not normally quite like this (fluffier/angstier - shorter!) - this has been a bit of a departure for me and I am not sure I will be revisiting this particular style of work. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless!

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and the world belongs to Bioware and I am most sincerely sorry for using them in such a way.


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